


Instigation

by rei_c



Series: Pan of the Preserve [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Demigod Stiles Stilinski, Family Feels, Gen, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Oaths & Vows, POV Stiles, Pack Feels, Werewolf Bonds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 18:47:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15177005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rei_c/pseuds/rei_c
Summary: Stiles has been at Aunt 'Rina's for two weeks when the tree wakes him. Someone has been killed on his tree. Stiles does not appreciate the offering.orPaige Krasikeva's not compatible with the bite. Her death begins it all, really.





	Instigation

Stiles wakes up out of a sound sleep, shakes off the ivy twining around his wrist, and goes straight to Aunt 'Rina. She's sitting up in bed reading, glasses perched low on her nose, and she looks up as soon as Stiles comes through the doorway. 

"Something's wrong," Stiles says. "I can -- something's _wrong_ , Aunt 'Rina." 

Aunt 'Rina puts the book down, tosses the blankets off of her legs as she asks, "Pan-ling? What is it; can you tell what it is?" 

His hand, clutching his chest, curls into a fist, draws bloody furrows down his skin. He should be feeling pain, should be screaming with the hurt of it, but he doesn't, he doesn't feel a thing except the agony that his tree is in. "Aunt 'Rina, I -- something -- the tree, my _tree_." He drops to his knees, throws his head back and howls. In the distance, under the tree's panic, Stiles thinks he hears Camille and Renaud, can feel his pack coming to him, and Aunt 'Rina's out of bed, is on her knees next to him even as the front door's crashing open and feet are thundering up the steps. 

"Tell me, Pan-ling," Aunt 'Rina says. She's got her hands covering his, keeping him from hurting himself again, and Cousin Trish has her arms wrapped around him, now, pressing a towel to his chest. "Stiles, tell me what's happening." 

Stiles wails. The _bakkheia_ floods out of him, wild and snapping teeth; he has no control of it, of the way it careens, screaming, at Cousin Mel and Cousin Leelee, and shoves them sprawling on the floor. It attacks Aunt 'Rina as well but she simply loosens the hold on her own _bakkheia_. Her family magic surrounds his, trying to smother it out, and Stiles feels panic clawing up his spine as his heart skips one beat, then two, then pounds in his ears and thrums in rhythm with the tree's shrieking. Aunt 'Rina's ignoring the way their magics clash and fight and howl in favour of focusing on touching him, grounding him, but he can't be grounded, his tree is _screaming_ and he's too far away to do anything, his tree is screaming and he has do something but his _bakkheia_ is being suffocated half to _death_ , he has to do something, his tree, his _tree_ \--

He screams, or his tree screams, or they both scream, or they're screaming as one, pain and blood and meat but not theirs, not _theirs_ , the pain is wrong and the blood is wrong and the meat is wrong, the meat is -- human but not, wolf but not, this is what Camille warned him about, this is why the tree kept them away, those _fucking Hales_ , he's going to kill them all, he's going to rip out their throats and drain their blood, bind them with fennel and strangle them with honeycomb and drown them with wine, burn them _alive_ , he's going to kill them, the oldest to the youngest, all of them, every last one of them, kill them with the light of Selene and crush the opals into dust beneath his feet, he's going to -- he's going to -- 

"No, no, _no_ ," he yells, and the house shakes around him with the force of their refusal. They won't accept this offering, they won't, it's wrong, it's wrong, it's poisoned and toxic, it'll sink to their roots and kill them, the girl's not right, she's _sick_ and they won't have her, they won't take her, they won't, won't, _will not_ \-- 

"Pup," and there's a new voice, teeth at the back of his neck, teeth like the ones who bit the girl, and they won't, _they won't_.

They scream, loud and long and hard enough to break glass, and the wolf behind them goes flying out of the window, goes away, that's all that's important; they hate the wolves, they've always hated the wolves but they served, they did, they served for so long, and then the wolves cut them down, all that work and that's the thanks they get, the wolves did it, _cut them down_ , those Hales who think the land belongs to them, who think they own them, who think they can lay claim to them and their power and they're going to _eat them_.

"Dzarowit Mieczysław Stilinski," Aunt 'Rina says. They shudder, they -- _he_ shudders. "In the name of the Twice-Born, I bind your _bakkheia_. In the name of the Gift-Giver, I bind your power. I call back your mind to your body and bind you inside, to connect to your nemeton without suffering its pain, to connect to your territory without shedding its leaves, to return to your family and remain as you are. I, Ekaterini Lelia Zvezda Knežević command it, as matriarch bacchant. _Come back_ , Pan-ling." 

Stiles gasps for breath. He -- his _tree_ , they -- ripped apart, they've been ripped apart and his tree is still screaming, still --. Stiles stares, unseeing, and says, "They bit a girl. They bit a girl on my tree and it didn't take. It poisoned her. They bit her and the bite was killing her and they didn't want to wait. They bit her and killed her, killed her on my tree." 

Aunt 'Rina hauls Stiles into her lap, rocks him as he gasps, as his heart aches and his tree's still screaming. "It's okay, Pan-ling. It'll be all right. You'll be okay, your tree will be okay. I promise. Everything will be okay." 

"I'm going to kill them all," Stiles says. Someone, somewhere behind him, murmurs ' _He means it_.' "I'm -- Aunt 'Rina, we -- they don't -- I --." 

He sobs, flinches when a hand strokes his ankle. He looks, eyes finally focusing in on something, and sees Camille sitting there. Stiles tugs his way free of Aunt 'Rina and flings himself into Camille's hold, wraps arms and legs around him, buries his face in Camille's neck. 

"Mine," Stiles says, and he _bites_ , digs his teeth into Camille and holds on. The bonds between them flare up wide and bloody, deep with summers of love and fondness and close communion, and Stiles -- his power's still bound but his instincts aren't and they're strong, they've always been strong, and now they're strong enough to tear a shred of his baby Pan free from Aunt 'Rina's hold. She makes a noise, strangled, choking, but Stiles weaves part of himself into his pack, a thin branchlet, enough to tether himself, claim them and be claimed in the same action. Camille howls, Renaud howls -- on the stairs; why is he on the stairs? -- and the pack howls, too, all of them, everywhere, from here to New Orleans. 

" _Bébé_ ," Camille breathes. "You've -- why now?" 

Stiles lifts his teeth from Camille's skin, licks at the blood. "I have to go home," Stiles says, as tears start dripping from his eyes. "I have to -- but I want to take you with me. I want to -- _my_ wolves, to remember." 

Camille hugs him tighter, tight enough that some of Stiles' joints pop, and then Renaud's there, too, his hand on Stiles' neck, nose in Stiles' hair. "We'll go with you," Renaud says. "Take you to Jess. We been talking 'bout bonding; I'll do it now so you got one of us with you." 

"Don't gotta," Stiles says. "I'm --" 

"Mine," Renaud says, a growl in his voice. "My pup. My pack. My choice." 

Stiles gives Camille's throat one more lick, then starts to move. He's still mostly sitting on Camille's lap when Renaud and Camille figure out what he's trying to do; Camille lets go and Renaud picks him up, draws teeth down Stiles' neck before pressing Stiles' face into the curve of his throat. 

It's good, it's so good, and Stiles breathes in the smell of Renaud and _loup-garou_ , of pack and alpha, lets that connection steady him, anchor him, as his heart finally starts beating at its normal pace and his lungs don't feel as though they're going to explode. When he's regained enough equilibrium to face the world, Stiles leans up, frowns and asks, "Why've you got glass in your hair?" He looks around, eyes gone wide in surprise, when he sees the number of aunts and cousins in the room, takes in the broken windows, the shattered mirrors and glasses, the way that the paintings on Aunt 'Rina's walls have gone crooked and the furniture's moved. "What happened?" 

"Your first big _bakkheia_ ," Aunt 'Rina says, dryly. Stiles blinks, looks around again. "At least we know this one was mostly powered by your tree." 

Stiles stares at her, asks, " _Mostly_?"

Aunt 'Rina smiles, stands up with help from Cousin Leelee. "Mostly," she says, with a firm nod. "Now, everyone out. Stiles and I will be fine; thank you for your help." 

Most of the aunts and cousins leave without a word, though Cousin Mel protests until Cousin Leelee grabs her by the hair and drags her out. Aunt Diana gives Stiles a kiss on the cheek before she goes and Cousin Hannah limps out, muttering something about glass in her paw. Cousin Trish gives Stiles a look, a long look, but she eventually nods -- it's something like a nod, anyways, though it's more of a downward tip of her head than a nod, and it lasts a little longer and she doesn't meet his eyes when she does it -- and goes, leaving Stiles in the room with just Aunt 'Rina, Camille, and Renaud. 

"I'll have Alfie make arrangements," Renaud says, helping Stiles stand up. "We'll go tomorrow -- if that suits, Reine." 

"You've only been here two weeks," Aunt 'Rina tells Stiles. "Are you sure you -- fine," she says, obviously having seen every ounce of the stubborn determination Stiles feels. "If you can come back, do so. You always have a place here, Pan-ling, and we'll miss not having you around for the full summer break."

Stiles gathers Aunt 'Rina up in a hug, inhales the scent of her, all burnt cherries and smoldering oak, the flare of her _bakkheia_ something like foxfire, ozone and lightning and freedom. "Thanks," he says. When he pulls back, she raises an eyebrow. Stiles winces, says, "Um. You can -- you can sleep in my room? If you want? While I clean up." 

Aunt 'Rina grimaces. "Your lemon tree doesn't know when to shut up," she says. "I'll never know how you sleep with that racket. I'll be downstairs in the front room and I'll thank you not to make too much noise. We'll see about new windows tomorrow." She gives, then, just a little, enough to reach out and cup Stiles' cheek, tell him, "Talk to your pack about the Hales, Pan-ling. I doubt they'd do something like this on purpose; there has to be an explanation." 

Something inside of Stiles tries to rear up, is flattened by the power of Aunt 'Rina's binding. He winces, hand moving to grip his head, but Camille grabs it, holds it tight. Stiles looks, confused, sees his fingers curled into claws again, nails sharper than they were a moment ago. 

"We'll take the binding off tomorrow morning," Aunt 'Rina says. When Stiles looks at her, she looks like she's a little uncomfortable, too. "Once you've had time to calm down a little." 

"Sorry," Stiles breathes, because -- because it's so obvious, isn't it. Aunt 'Rina's the most powerful member of their family, she's the _matriarch bacchant_ , and Stiles is strong enough that when he fights the binding, he causes her discomfort. He's strong enough to impact her _now_ , when he's still got years before he ripens, when he hasn't even made his _thyrsus_ yet. "Aunt 'Rina, I -- I'm sorry." 

Aunt 'Rina sighs, reaches under her bed for her slippers and slides into them. She touches Stiles' cheek, kisses his forehead. "Don't apologise, Pan-ling," she tells him. "It's what you're meant to be, after all. We'll talk in the morning, all right?" 

Stiles swallows, hangs his head a little. "Okay," he says. "I'm -- g'night, Aunt 'Rina." 

"Good night, Pan-ling," she says. "I love you. I've loved you forever and I'll love you a day after forever ends. I promise." 

No one calls him on the tears that slip down his cheeks. He appreciates it.


End file.
